


Sleeping Pills

by muds



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Eventual Fluff, Heartache, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Painkillers, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Smoking, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11238882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muds/pseuds/muds
Summary: 2D is an addict, and Murdoc knows it. It's just another way to break him, another way to hold power over him.In which Murdoc is NOT A NICE PERSON and 2D deserves so much better.





	1. Codeine

They've been doing this for a long time. Too long, 2D thinks, considering that he still doesn't know what 'this' is, or what they are to each other. He doesn't know much, and remembers even less, thanks to the steady stream of pain killers he's been consuming since childhood. He know's he's an addict, but it's not like there's anything else he can do to stop the constant pain, and he could never function without the drugs. 

Murdoc falls back onto the bed beside him, drenched in sweat and wearing nothing but odd socks and a shit-eating grin. He lights up a cigarette immediately, and the thick haze of smoke clogs 2D's nose and throat, equal parts soothing and exacerbating his early-stage headache. He rolls to the side, already feeling sticky and used, groping around the bedside table for his nightly dose of codeine.

"Already, Dent's?" Sighs Murdoc. "You 'ad some just before we started. Lay off it will ya?" Murdoc knows all too well how dependent 2D has become on his meds, having been the cause of most of the pain to begin with. 

2D ignores him, opting instead to pry open the nearly empty bottle of pills, struggling to do so thanks to his rapidly worsening headache. He can't deal with the bassist's hypocritical judgements right now. He needs the sweet numbness in his veins to let him sleep, and maybe forget about tonight all together. 

Murdoc growls lowly, angry about being ignored. No one ignores him but himself. All of a sudden, he lurches forwards and grabs 2D by the throat, scratchy nails digging painfully into his windpipe. 2D gasps and chokes as Murdoc forces him onto his back, pushing him down into the stained pillows and digging his other hand into the taller man's hair. He whimpers when Murdoc presses his lips against his ear, baring his teeth to growl out his displeasure.

"Don't you fuckin' ignore me faceache. I made you, I own you. Speak when you're spoken to!" He hisses, tightening his already painful grip on the mop of blue hair below him.

"I-I'm sorry Muds! Please, s-stop pu...it hurts Muds! I wont d-do it again! I promise!" 2D is crying now, and only partly due to the pain in his head and throat. Murdoc releases his hair, but keeps his hand over 2D's throat as a warning.

"See, bluebird? That weren't so hard, was it? Politeness will get you a long fuckin' way." He whispers into 2D's ear, pleased by how easy he was to break. He reaches down and grasps 2D's cock punishingly hard, smiling again when the younger man yelps and tries to pull away from his bruising hold; still sensitive from their earlier antics. 

2D feels himself start crying again. Everything hurts now, and he just wants to take his pills and be comatose for a little while. Wants this pain and heartache to end, even if it's only for a night. 

"Oh, but what am I doing?" Croons Murdoc, stroking 2D's bruised and bitten throat with his sharp nails.   
"You don't deserve a reward, do you? Insolent little shits don't get anything. But, I am feeling generous. Aren't I a good friend, 2D? Aren't I? Open your mouth."

2D opens his mouth, ready to apologise and agree with Murdoc, say anything to make this end as soon as possible, but is cut off when Murdoc rams two fingers to the back of his throat. He fights the urge to gag and the tears start to fall in earnest now. With his free hand, Murdoc takes the medicine bottle from where it had fallen on the bed, and fishes out two of the white pills. 2D stares up at Murdoc in confusion as he rolls the two pills between his fingers, then removes the hand from 2D's drooling mouth and places them on his tongue.

"Swallow." He orders. 2D wastes no time, swallowing them dry and closing his eyes in relief, relaxing into the damp sheets. When he opens his eyes again, Murdoc is still watching him, with a strange expression on his face that 2D can't work out. He decides that he doesn't really care as the first wave of sweet relief washes over him, and he closes his eyes again to bask in it. He can vaguely hear Murdoc saying something, but he's already too far gone, lost to the haze, and doesn't recognise what he's hearing. He is asleep in minutes.


	2. Oxycodone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2D can't find his pills, and Murdoc is enjoying himself far too much.

2D doesn't dream. He never does, thanks to the medications. It's been so long since he slept without their help that he barely remembers what it feels like to dream. Sometimes, he wishes he did dream, but then he remembers the harrowing nightmares, and suddenly he's not so eager. 

When he wakes, he is alone. Nothing new there, Murdoc never stayed till morning. It was rare for him to even stay long enough for 2D to catch his breath. It had become a regular occurrence after the first time, Murdoc slipping into 2D's room most nights after a bottle of rum to pound him into the mattress, always so present in the moment, but never there in the way that 2D wanted. 

He’s been asleep for too long. The sun streaming through the blinds is harsh and unforgiving, shedding light on the remnants of last night. Clothes are strewn about the room haphazardly, a smashed bottle of whiskey lies by the foot of the bed glinting menacingly in the bright glare, and 2D’s body is covered in fresh bruises and bite marks. Murdoc likes to stake his claim for everyone to see. His last dose of painkillers has long since worn off, and 2D can feel the dull ache already starting behind his dark eyes.

He sits up slowly, trying not to jostle his painful limbs too much, and looks to the bedside for his pills. 

They aren’t there.

2D frowns. He put them back there last night, didn’t he? He can”t remember anymore. Maybe Murdoc dropped the bottle on the floor when he left? Shifting gently to lean over the edge of the bed, 2D sifts through the mess of clothes, empty beer cans and ruined shoes.

The pills aren’t here either.

He can feel himself starting to panic and closes his eyes, breathing slowly; in for ten, out for ten, trying desperately not to lose it. A panic attack right now would definitely worsen his headache. The singer lurches out of bed and heads for the bathroom, tripping over a pair of boots on the way and knocking over the melodica propped against the wall. He always keeps some drugs in the mirror cabinet.

2D rips open the cabinet with more force than necessary, and stares in disbelief at the empty shelves. It’s all gone. The codeine, the oxycodone, the diamorphine, even the bloody paracetamol is gone! He falls to the floor, legs no longer able to hold up his own weight. How could he let this happen? When did he last pick up his prescriptions? Clenching his eyes shut to block out the blinding light, the mental berating starts. 

_You’re an idiot, Stuart. You deserve this. It’s your own fault for not getting your pills from the doctors. Too busy pining over a man who will never love you, like a pathetic little virgin…_

His headache has escalated to a full blown migraine now, and 2D feels as though his brain is about to push out through his blood stained eye sockets. He’s not sure when he started crying, but his face is soaked in tears now, and he wipes them up onto his forehead in the hopes of cooling his fever. Everything hurts, and his panic is only making it worse, but he can’t calm down. How can he ever function like a normal person when he can’t even go 12 hours without dosing up?

A low, wheezing laugh distracts 2D from his internal monologue, reverberating around his head like the sound of helicopter blades. Murdoc is leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, watching 2D with a humoured smirk. 

"What you lost, faceache? Besides your dignity, of course." he chuckles, and slowly pulls an orange bottle from his back pocket. 2D looks on in confusion. Why does Murdoc have his medicine? 

Realisation hits him like a freight train, and he starts to yell without a thought for his particularly fragile head.

"Give 'em back you fuckin' prick! I need 'em! They ain't yours!" He whimpers at the pain his outburst sparks inside his head, and curls up on the floor again, forehead pressed against the cold tiles. 

Murdoc watches the taller man writhing m on the floor in pain, and feels guilty for only a moment. The feeling is gone when he hears 2D's pathetic whimpers and groans, replaced by a smug sense of satisfaction. This was going to be too easy. 

"Looking for these, bluebird?" He rattles the bottle fiercely, and the sound sets 2D's teeth on edge and makes his mouth water. He drags himself up to his knees, even the small movement making his head spin, and glares at Murdoc. Well, tries to, it comes off as more of a despondent stare. "I thought you might have learnt to be more polite when you want summat by now, dullard. If you want them, come and get them." 

2D thinks about arguing, about standing up for himself, but the pain in his head is insurmountable now, and he hasn't the energy to fight it. Instead, he grabs the sink to pull himself up. Murdoc interrupts him. "No. Crawl." he orders. Now 2D really wants to argue back. He hates when Murdoc is like this to him, hates his insufferable desire to be in control of everything. But he really needs those pills. 

So, he slides back onto his knees, and starts to shuffle slowly across the cold, hard floor, avoiding Murdoc's eye. The bassist is stood up straight now, holding two pills in his open palm, bottom lip trapped between unfathomably sharp teeth. He's enjoying this far more than he though he would.

When 2D reaches Murdoc, he sits back on his heels and gazes up at his bandmate. Even through the haze of pain and hatred, 2D still finds the older man captivatingly attractive. He allows himself to admire Murdoc, grateful for a distraction from the pounding in his head. 

Murdoc crouches down and grasps the taller man's chin between two fingers, and pulls his face up so they're eye to eye. He loves seeing 2D like this; obedient and worshipping him, even after everything he's put him through. 2D's black eyes search his face, trying to figure out what his curious expression means, when Murdoc pushes a finger between his lips gently, just enough to open his mouth. Sensing what he wants, 2D obediently sticks out his tongue and allows the satanist to place the painkillers in his mouth. 

"There we go luv. All better. You don't have to worry about your meds anymore Stu, I'll take care of it." says Murdoc softly. His words confuse 2D greatly. Why does Murdoc care whether or not he gets his meds? He certainly never has before. 

When 2D doesn't respond, Murdoc squeezes his chin tighter, prompting tears to form in the corner of his eyes. "What do we say, hm?" he growls.

"T-thank you Muds..."

He lets go of 2D's face and stalks out of the bathroom, leaving 2D to curl up on the unforgiving tiles and wait for the painkillers to kick in, trying desperately to ignore the inappropriate erection between his legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was rushed and I haven't proof read it so sorryyy  
> Thank you all so much for the feedback on the last chapter!  
> This is probably set at 212 Wobble Street I guess  
> More chapters to come, no idea when or how many though

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic and will have multiple chapters, no idea when I'll be able to post them though. Feedback would be appreciated :) Please note that this was written at 1am on the morning of an exam so good luck wading through this shit  
> It only gets darker from here folks


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